Ashton watched her shuffle down the corridor, his heart full of love, and as he left the care home, he idly wondered whether she would also think that Carla wasn’t good enough for him.
The Golden Fleece in Thornbury was a trendy bar. Not really his scene (he preferred quieter, more traditional watering holes) but Ashton thought Carla might enjoy it. The food was supposed to be good, and the selection of gins was astounding. Not that he would sample any, as he couldn’t stand the stuff, but he hoped Carla liked them.
He had collected her from the farm, conscious of a shadowy figure peering out of the kitchen window, and guessed it was Dulcie. There was an awkward moment when he wondered whether Carla expected a kiss, before they settled for a peck on the cheek and a brief hug.
And now they were sitting in the bar across the table from one another, debating whether to have a starter. He had the feeling Carla seemed reluctant, and guessed she might be worried about the price of the meal. This place wasn’t cheap, although it wasn’t as expensive as The Wild Side.
As though she’d read his mind, Carla said, ‘Otto suggested we dine at The Wild Side, rather than drag you all the way to Picklewick to pick me up, then drive all the way here. I know Thornbury’s not far, but…’
Ashton’s mouth tightened and his jaw clenched. The Wild Side was the last place he wanted to eat at.
He thought he’d covered his reaction, but he clearly hadn’t, as Carla said, ‘I know it’s pricey, but Otto wouldn’t charge us the full amount.’
‘It’s not that—’
‘Please don’t tell me you’ve had a bad experience there,’ she interrupted, then saw his expression. ‘Oh, dear, you have.’
‘Not in the way you think. The food was lovely, the occasion not so much.’
She was looking at him expectantly, and he realised he couldn’t leave it there. He had to give her an explanation. He took a steadying breath. ‘I proposed to my girlfriend there. She turned me down.’
Carla’s expression was full of sympathy. ‘It seems neither of us has been lucky in love.’ She paused, and he could see her thinking. ‘The Wild Side hasn’t been open very long, so I assume this was fairly recent?’
‘It was.’ He drank some of his sparkling water, the pain of Lacey’s rejection hitting him anew.
Carla said, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll get over it.’ He stared into space, his smile sad. ‘It was probably for the best. We weren’t compatible. Wanted different things out of life. And she didn’t approve of my hobby. Said it was boring.’ Then he added, ‘She saidIwas boring, and that I lacked ambition.’ He grimaced. ‘She’s right, I do, and I’m not going to apologise.’
‘I don’t think you’re boring.’
‘That’s kind of you.’
‘I’m being honest. I think you’re fascinating.’ Her eyes widened. ‘I mean, photography is fascinating and you’re a photographer, so…’
He chuckled. ‘I know what you mean. But I’m the first to admit that I’m not the most exciting person in the world. I’m a postman, for goodness’ sake, and I like my job. I don’t want promotion or more responsibility.’
She giggled. ‘I bet I can beat you in a ‘who is the most boring’ contest. I work in insurance for a start, and I still live at home.’
Oh, that’s definitely a point for you. At least I’ve got my own place,’ he teased.
‘In my defence, my mum works for a travel company as a rep and she’s away for months on end, so it’s almost as good as having my own house, but without the mortgage.’
‘No mortgage,’ he said dreamily. ‘I can’t imagine what that’s like.’
‘I keep thinking I should move out and put a toe on the property ladder, but I can’t afford it unless I do a flat-share thing, and I don’t fancy that. I like my own space.’
‘What would happen if your mum came back for good?’
‘I’d have to move out, I think. The thought of bringing someone back when she’s there…’ Carla shuddered, then bit her lip. ‘Not that I take men home very often.’
‘You don’t have to explain or justify anything.’
‘But I don’t want you to think—’
‘I don’t.’ He hoped she could hear the sincerity in his voice. ‘Shall we order? We’ve been nursing these menus for ages, and the waiter is hovering.’
With their orders given, Ashton remembered to ask her whether she had phoned Anita-what’s-her-face today.
